


Denial Isn't Just A River in Egypt

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But it is slow, Campbell is just a pure psychopath, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Alive, Except maybe Dewey, F/F, F/M, Hassandra happens, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Slow Burn, cassandra does not die, confusion is the biggest one of them, he's a fucking DICK, nope nope nope, these two idiots are experiencing a lot of emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: “You know, the whole time, just waiting for Rhett and Scarlett to be together, and then they’re just not. I’ve never had something denied to me like that.”For once, Harry thinks his feelings towards her have been adequately summed up.AU where Cassandra doesn’t die, and denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.
Relationships: Bean & Gordie (The Society), Campbell Eliot/Elle Tomkins, Harry Bingham/Cassandra Pressman, Kelly Aldrich/Elle Tomkins, Sam Eliot/Gareth "Grizz" Visser, Will LeClair/Allie Pressman
Comments: 26
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [societysgot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/societysgot/gifts), [spiderlingdarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderlingdarling/gifts), [angelcreature13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcreature13/gifts).



> gifted to all of the above because you guys inspired me to write this :D thank you so much for all your lovely comments and for giving some motivation during these strange times!

For all of his schooling, Harry Bingham has only loathed Cassandra Pressman. 

Well, at least for all of elementary and middle school. 

She was always picked ahead of him - for hall monitor, for lunch monitor, for line leader. In so many plays she took his place, never mind the part being written for a boy. He worked and he worked for middle school debate team captain, only to be sidelined for her. 

High school him was a little in awe of her. Fierce, uncaring of other people’s opinions, analytical, level-headed. And now in this new strange abandoned world of theirs, she is again their leader. As much as she annoys the ever loving crap out of him, he has to admit that you have to have some serious guts to be able to face a loaded gun, literally. And to be able to establish a form of government and society that actually functions. And to be able to still have some fun along the way. 

Okay, fine, she’s doing a pretty fucking good job in this shitshow that they’re living in, but he’s never going to admit that. _Not out loud, that’s for fucking sure_. And now he’s at prom, held at someone’s bar mitzvah, downing vodka and whiskey and admitting to himself that Cassandra Pressman rightfully deserves that position instead of him. 

They surely are in some parallel universe for all of these events to occur simultaneously. 

People are slowly leaving the event, and Kelly is nowhere to be seen. _Fuck her_. He doesn’t care at this point anyways - it’s not the worst thing that’s happening to him right now by far. Allie, Sam and Grizz are one of the last few to leave, leaving Cassandra all alone. Cassandra, cleaning up the mess that other people have left behind. 

Like always. 

He takes the remainder of the whiskey and pours it in the bottle of Grey Goose in his hand, making his way outside in a weird walk that’s half drunk-wobble, half waltz, _but fully fucked over Harry_. The curb is cold and inviting and a really nice place to set himself down, so he takes his perch and sips on the burning mix slowly. He might drink himself to death tonight, but is it really the worst thing that can happen to him? 

He’s already determined that there are worse things awaiting him at home. 

The curb also seems much nicer to sleep on than the mess that is his house. The coolness of the stone soothes his flushed face as he lies down, shutting his eyes to some much needed relief. This is nice. What’s not nice is the sound that disturbs his almost sleep. It’s the sound of a gun, his mind sleepily registers. 

_It’s the sound of a gun_. 

He quickly picks himself up off the ground and runs to the source of the sound. “Hey!” There’s some scrambling and he can hear the sound of feet hitting the pavement in a run. “Hey! Hey, get back!” He’s going to find this dickhead and give him a piece of his mind. But there’s also the sound of someone whimpering behind him, and he’s guessing this is the person who got shot. 

“Help.” There stands Cassandra, shot straight in the stomach, eyes wide in horror, a hand on her stomach, shaking. 

“Hey, hey hey, you’re gonna be fine,” he babbles off, hooking an arm with hers as he guides her to his car. It’s not very far, just a few steps from where they are. There’s a first aid kit in there, and he knows it’s not gonna solve his problem, but it might buy them some time. 

“I’m gonna die,” she’s crying as the blood trickles down her body, and Harry is frantically looking for the kit. “I’m gonna die.” 

“No, you’re not. Cassandra, look at me, look at me, I’ve got gauze and - and,” he looks in his hand, “I’ve got cotton and I’ve got my jacket and my cummerbund that we can use and you’re not gonna die.” He takes off his jacket and cummerbund, taking off the waist contraption and tying it firmly around her waist, remembering his ER training. He drapes the jacket over her shoulders and hops into the driver’s seat, racing for the hospital. 

Thankfully, Grizz takes his call. “Hey buddy, what’s up?” 

“Meet me at the hospital right now. Cassandra’s been shot.” 

“Wait what? Shot? Harry, what - I’m coming.” He turns to look at the patient, whose face is growing ashen. He quickly places a hand on her stomach to assess the amount of bleeding since - _it’s not too much, but it’s not good_. 

“Cassandra, look at me. Look at me.” 

“Look at the road, Harry.” _Good God,_ she cannot help but be anal retentive, even when she’s dying.

“No, you look at me.” A look passes between them. “You’re gonna make it, okay?” He grips her free hand. “You’re gonna make it. Look, we’re here. We’re here.” Grizz rushes out with a stretcher and Gordie with an IV drip, and he hoists her up and lays her on the gurney. The rest of the night is a blur, and all he remembers is that he threw up and is now up with a pounding headache in a hospital chair. 

“You look like shit.” 

Grizz is holding out a glass of water in one hand, pills in the other. “Good morning to you too, Harry. Take this.” The water reduces the cottony feeling in his mouth and the pills will kick in eventually. 

“Any more of that water?” 

“Here you go.” He downs half the bottle before he stops to take a breath and then looks at his shoes, blood dried upon them in pockets. 

“Hey, is she -” He doesn’t want to say the d-word. _Can’t have it on my conscience_. 

“Dead? Nope. Gordie is one hell of an untrained surgeon. She’s sedated, though, so you’ll have to wait before you see her.” As if he would want to. 

“I’ll take my leave and let Her Highness wake up to her knight in shining armour, thank you very much.” Besides, he stinks like sour milk and rust and his hair is too gross to withstand any more. While on his way out, he bumps into a frazzled Allie, who throws her arms around him, audibly weeping. 

“Thank you so much,” she’s crying into his shoulder. 

“No-no problem.” Kelly gives him a small but genuine smile as she leads Allie towards the ward, and he makes his way back to his car, checking his pockets for the keys. Back home, it seems like nothing has really happened, but there is a tense silence that hangs in the air. People look at him weirdly, and he doesn’t really have the energy to tell everyone to fuck off so he just makes his way back to his bedroom, glaring at anything and anyone he lays eyes on. His bathroom seems to be the only unoccupied spot right now, so he takes the opportunity and darts in for a shower before anyone else can do so. The bloodstained clothes stick to his body and he has to peel them off him - _maybe that’s what the gawking was for_. He sure as hell would stare if someone walked in looking like they were in Carrie’s splash zone and couldn’t get out fast enough. 

He’s not particularly up to doing anything at the moment, but he’s left his phone at the hospital. It’s not that important that he goes back right now, but after an hour of debating, the craving of mindless distraction and music wins out. The hospital is eerily deserted, a fact that escaped his notice last night due to the chaos of all that was happening. There’s cars in the parking lot, and no one to claim them. He parks in an open spot and walks up to the reception, which has no one at it, predictably. He heads to the ER section, tracing his steps from last night. Gordie is napping in a chair and Allie is sitting by her sister’s bedside, watching expectantly, his phone a couple of seats away near a different bed. 

“She hasn’t woken up yet,” she fills in the blank for him. “Her heart beat is stable, as you can see,” a hand motions to the monitor, “and she’s breathing and all, but she isn’t up. Though I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to sleep through this shit show.” He doesn’t want to linger, really, but he cannot bring himself to leave. Clutching the iPhone in his hand like a lifeline, Harry edges closer. She looks so at peace, as if she’s just asleep. _Cassandra_ , he wants to speak her name out loud. He’s worried to disturb this tenuous quiet, as if this will all shatter the second he opens his mouth and she will be back here, in pain and dying. The quiet does break, with a wince. 

But it’s not him or Allie. 

“Harry?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra does wake up to her knight in shining armour, just not the one Harry thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this house Allie ships Hassandra

She didn’t expect to wake up. 

After that gunshot, all of Cassandra’s fears about death had suddenly become very real. When the bullet hit her, she took a moment to assess what really happened before thinking - _this is what takes me out?_

Not her heart. Not some other complications with her shitty body. Not her anxiety. A bullet. 

Two lousy fucking bullets. 

And then the panic took over. Her body was in pain all over and suddenly not at all, and all she could feel was the blood pooling in her stomach and spilling all over like a waterfall. And then it was Harry, hurrying her to his car and doing his level best with a pack of gauze and his jacket. Harry, with his dark, urgent eyes speeding down the road, telling her that she was going to be okay. She doesn’t really remember the rest - Cassandra figures that’s her memory repressing all the trauma she underwent last night. Now she’s waking up to the same face she had lost consciousness to. 

_How long has he been here?_

She sees Allie out of the corner of her eye - her wonderful sister, who’s always got her back through the good, the bad and the dirty, laughing through her tears. “How long has it been?” 

“Fourteen, fifteen hours?” Allie ventures. “Maybe longer. You were sedated after the surgery and that happened at like midnight, last I remember.” So he’s been here that long. Doesn’t he hate her? Then the surgery bit of the conversation settles in. 

“Surgery? The adults are back?” Maybe their nightmare is ending sooner than she thought. Then again, if the adults were back, where are her parents? _Maybe they’re at the billing counter, or the cafeteria._ There’s a spark of hope there. 

“No.” Harry finally speaks, and she can see the contrition on his face, a soundless _I’m sorry_. “It was Gordie. He’s really good at this for someone who hasn’t gone to med school.” Gordie - she totally forgot about him. 

“Where’s he?” 

“He’s asleep,” Allie tells her. “He stayed up a couple of hours after he finished the surgery to make sure you had no complications.” She smiles at that - Gordie is selfless in a way that people often overlook. Harry’s still standing there, a scowl building on his face. Usually, she’d tell him to fuck off and take his attitude elsewhere, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Maybe he doesn’t hate her as much as she thought. 

There’s a lull in the conversation which the beeps from the heart monitor fill, and Allie takes a quick break, _to use the washroom,_ she mutters as she takes her leave. Harry turns to leave but she has questions, and besides, she feels like she owes him both gratitude and an apology. 

“Harry, hey.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Take a seat, please,” she gestures with her free hand at the chair Allie just vacated. He doesn’t fight her on it, looking bone tired as he settles in. “I just wanted to thank you.” 

He’s fidgeting with his phone. “It was only decency.”

“Guess you don’t hate me enough to let me die.” 

“Guess I don’t.” He’s looking up at her now, a half smile sort of reaching his tired eyes. 

“I also want to apologise for my shitty behaviour; we were all in a fucked up headspace, and you didn’t deserve any of the shit I said to you.” That brings out a laugh. 

“Clearing your conscience before you die, Pressman?” It makes the pain all too present; she isn’t out of the woods yet. Anything could happen. “Sorry, I didn’t - it was in poor taste.”

“Perhaps I am.” And if she does die, at least she would die with a pretty clean conscience now. 

“Nah,” he looks back down again. It’s a habit of his she’s seen over the years, him looking at the ground when he’s sincere or embarrassed. Or both. “I doubt I would be lucky enough to be rid of you after all this. Besides, you’re too tough for something as stupid as a bullet to take you out.” 

“Is that praise, Harold?” That brings out another laugh, and she finds she quite likes it. It holds her down to reality, a constant in this strange upside down world of theirs.

“Couldn’t kill the Wicked Witch of the West with a gun, could you?” She’s laughing now - it hurts a little, and she winces from the effort. But it still feels nice. 

“No, it would take more than a bullet for that.” Allie’s back, a bar of Twix in hand, another shoved in her mouth.

“I’m so glad no one raided any of the hospital vending machines,” she talks through a mouthful as Harry vacates the seat, Allie taking a swig of water. “At least there’s still snacks here.”

“I’ll get going.” He gives the two of them a curt nod and without another word, Harry leaves. 

“How are you feeling now?” Allie brings her attention back, looking at her expectantly. “For a while I was worried, just -” she tears up again, wiping her sleeve aggressively against her face. “I thought your heart had some complications, and Gordie couldn’t help, and you had just been out for so long.”

“I’m surprisingly okay.” She takes her sister’s hand, rubbing soothing circles. “I’m still here, all right? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Someone clearly wanted you to,” Allie mutters darkly. That much is true. While she couldn’t see the person’s face, their height and build didn’t leave out many candidates. That’s not something she wants to focus on right now - that person probably only wanted her dead, given the situation and context. They won’t be a threat to the rest of New Ham, but they’ll need to be apprehended. 

“That doesn’t matter right now as much.” 

“They could hurt someone else, Cass!” Her sister, with her righteous fire. 

“At the risk of sounding extremely selfish, Allie, I think I was their only target. He won’t come after anyone else.” 

“So you do know who it is,” Allie’s eyes narrow, looking at her. “It wasn’t him, was it?” 

“Who?” 

“Him,” she flails her hands around herself and the chair. 

“Harry? No!” Yesterday, she would have considered it - now, not so much. “He brought me here, Allie. I seriously doubt he would do that if he wanted to kill me.”

“Maybe he chickened out,” she grumbled. “Asshole.”

“It’s not him. I think it’s Dewey, but I’m not entirely sure. I couldn’t see his face.”

“Well, if you think it’s him, we should deal with him right now!”

Not without proof. “That wouldn’t hold up in court. We need evidence.” Allie gets up from her spot, pacing in front of her now. “There isn’t a court, or lawyers, or judges anymore, Cassandra! We’re fucking stuck here in this _nightmare_ of a situation and there’s a goddamn murderer on the loose but you care about the whole law and order of it? Seriously?” She waits until Allie’s run out of some of her steam before she speaks. 

“I’m well aware of that, but the most we can do is hold him until there is enough proof. Make it a non-bailable offense and hold him somewhere he can’t easily break out of. Then put him on trial with the evidence we have and hopefully, that will be enough with witness testimony to convict him. If we don’t do this, there will just be a bunch of idiots enacting vigilante justice.”

Allie is about to snap back with (probably) a solid argument, but she can see Gordie scrambling to his feet, eyes wide. “Cassandra!” His first instinct is to look at her vitals - _what a dork._ “Hi.” 

“Hey, you.” He first goes over the medical stuff, asking her a bunch of questions and ticking off stuff he’s hastily scribbled onto a legal pad. Then he takes her hand, and that’s nice. He talks to her about all the inane things he can to distract her, and that’s nice too. He cares. When Gordie kisses her forehead goodnight after feeding her dinner, it’s still nice. 

But something feels missing, and for once Cassandra doesn’t know how to fill in the blank. 

**Author's Note:**

> reviews and comments - good, bad and ugly - make me happy, so please leave one below!


End file.
